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London 2012: Usain Bolt joins the Olympic immortals

These were the Bolt Games, and his name that can be mentioned in the same breath as Jesse Owens and Muhammad Ali.

Usain Bolt crosses the finish line ahead of Ryan Bailey of the U.S. to win the 4x100-metre relay for Jamaica in a world record 36.84 seconds Saturday at the Olympic Games in London. (ADRIAN DENNIS / AFP)

A repeat three-peat for the incomparable Usain Bolt — yet again a triple Olympic champion, this time arm-in-arm-in-arm-in-arm with his Jamaican posse of sprinters.

On the final night of athletics, they smashed the 4x100-metre world record that they already collectively owned: 36.84 the new, 37.04 the old.

And some anal track official wouldn’t let Bolt the Beauty hang on to the baton for keeps. “We’ve got to take it back,’’ the stiff-necked jerk insisted, to a crescendo of boos as the audience realized what was happening.

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Bolt: “But I need this, to put up myself.’’

Reluctantly he turned it over, with a disgusted wave-off of his hand.

That took a bit of the joy off the celebratory scene that has become a ritual for all of Bolt’s triumphant races. What a silly dampener.

He did say, some days back, that the London 2012 goofy rules were driving him crazy, imposing structure on so freewheeling and anti-conformist a personality.

Still, he’s had the time — if not until last night the times — of his life at these Games, indisputably the legend he’d yearned to become. Truthfully, he was already there, after defending his 100m Olympic gold, his 200m gold, and now the relay that has kept Jamaica at the pinnacle of the sprint world apex.

Such bravado, such brash, such bluster and lustre.

Jamaica: A tiny Caribbean nation of 2.8 million that has given the world great music, a great beer, and a hipster argot that has become the patois for a generation. Fastest man on Earth, fastest woman on Earth, fastest quartet of male sprinters on Earth.

Overwhelming favourites, even minus former world-record holder Asafa Powell who injured his groin in the 100m final, they scorched the track Saturday, Blake passing baton and lead to Bolt. And Bolt stretched out the last leg gap, pulling well away from young Ryan Bailey, Americans silver yet tying the old world record.

“I knew it was possible,’’ said Bolt. “I wish we could have gone faster. But I guess we leave room for improvement.’’

Heartbreak for the Canadians, though, fleetingly bronze and Justyn Warner wrapping himself in the flag, until suddenly disqualified for stepping on the line, Jared Connaughton inconsolable but manning-up to the transgression.

For one brief shining moment, they had shared the winner’s circle with Jamaica and the U.S. It was just a terrible ejection.

But these were Bolt’s Games, the showman and showboat everybody came to see, sprints saviour in the aftermath of doping contamination a decade ago, a purist in his craft, his own riveting invention — you couldn’t make him up — and at least semi-divine: Six gold medals, four world records, in two Olympics.

We could watch him forever, the only regret that his specialty of blistering speed is measured in seconds, never in motion for more than a third of a minute.

Oh, he’s full of tomfoolery and joie de vivre when the job is over, with his gesturing antics, his signature pose, his vogue-ing, his vainglory. He salutes himself, he salutes the crowd, he pointed an admonishing finger at the sky the other night before his 200m final, as if challenging the Olympic gods: Look at me! I’m one of you!

Or like Superman, in the old comic books, turning back time by pulling the globe counter-clockwise, backwards to yesterday.

Yes, there’s always an element of the circus about Bolt, clowning and pantomiming for the gallery. But there’s the all-business Bolt too, crouching in the blocks — after his customary tee-hee joking with lane monitors (“You nervous?’’ he inquired teasingly of a volunteer the other evening) — 6-foot-5 frame covering 100m in precisely 41 strides, reaching maximum speed of about 27 m.p.h., the Bolt Express.

Perhaps because the relay was not singularly his showcase Saturday night, Bolt was atypically restrained in the post-race hoopla. The triumph, however, seals his place in the pantheon of immortals, a name that can be mentioned in the same breath as Jesse Owens or Carl Lewis, and why not Pele or even Muhammad Ali?

“I wanted to become a legend and I am one.’’

Weird how begrudging IOC president Jacques Rogge has been about that, indulging in a game of semantics, picking apart the apparent distinction between “legend’’ and “icon.’’

Following Bolt’s magisterial 200m victory Thursday, Rogge was disapproving of the runner’s crowd-pleasing self-aggrandizement. “The career of Usain Bolt has to be judged when the career stops. Let him participate in three, four Games and he can be a legend. He’s already an icon.’’

What a party-pooper.

Bolt, who turns 26 next week, promised that when his Games running was done, he would “party like it’s my birthday.’’

What next? Whatever he wants.

Maybe moving up to the 400m he professes to hate. Possibly some day contesting the long-jump. Says he would love to play football for his beloved Manchester United. Hell, why not take a page from Jamaica’s memorably wacky Olympic past and switch to Winter Games bobsled, Cool Runnings: The Sequel.

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